by Jan Moran
“Anika and Bella are attacking the biscotti. I swear those teenagers are bottomless pits.”
Verena’s fair, blond sisters sat beside them, giggling at the cute guys in the film crew.
“We’ll need quiet on the set,” the director told them with a wink. The girls pressed their lips together and turned their attention to the stage.
The filming began, and Verena spoke to the camera, welcoming viewers and sharing the back story of how her grandmother had created the special serum that was the basis for the line. Verena stumbled over a few words, and the director asked her to start over. The teleprompter was reversed. Three takes later, the director was satisfied and signaled for the next scene.
Verena cleared her throat, the director gave the cue, and the cameras rolled. “I’d like to introduce my friends Penelope Plessen, a model; Dahlia Dubois, a perfumer; and Fianna Fitzgerald, a fashion designer. All these women are in the business of beauty, and must look their best every day.”
This take was more casual, with the friends chatting about the products, how they used them, and what they liked about them. They were genuinely enthusiastic.
Unlike some infomercials, Scarlett knew it was all true, because they’d helped Verena and Mia test the new line. They’d all given feedback, and it was overwhelmingly positive. Especially from Penelope. As a model, she’d tried most of the skincare lines, and was always looking for the most effective products on the market. Her career depended on looking the best she could every day.
Scarlett was so engrossed in the filming process that the morning flew by. She was surprised when the lunch trolley was rolled onto the set.
Before they broke for lunch, everyone was given strict orders to preserve their makeup and clothing. There would be touch-ups, but there wouldn’t be time for more if they wanted to stay on schedule. They were trying to complete the shoot in one day.
Penelope stepped off the set. “Scarlett, it’s been too long. Let’s catch up.”
“I’d give you a hug, but I don’t want to mess up your makeup.”
“Don’t be silly.” Penelope flung an arm around Scarlett. At six feet tall, Penelope towered above her. For a high fashion runway model who lived on jets, wore the latest fashions from the best designers, and mingled with rock stars and celebrities, Penelope was surprisingly modest. She was from Denmark and had been modeling since she was a teenager.
A caterer had brought in a buffet lunch, so they lined up and took their plates.
“Love the new hair.” Penelope had spiky, short hair in a dark blond shade close to Scarlett’s natural color.
“It’s this week’s style.” Penelope laughed. “Next week it will be henna red.” Every fashion house wanted a different runway look, so her appearance was constantly in flux. She was a beautiful chameleon.
They’d met through Verena at the Valent skincare salon. Penelope had been a regular client for years. On Scarlett’s visits from New York, she had often run into her while they relaxed in the sauna after their massages. Scarlett sighed. That was when she’d had the time to fit in a few personal activities, which she hadn’t been able to do since she’s returned to Los Angeles.
“So I hear you’re working hard,” Penelope said, as she heaped salad and roasted organic vegetables onto her plate. “You’ll be a partner soon, won’t you?”
“The meeting is next week.” Scarlett drew her brows together. She’d thought she would be celebrating, but now she wasn’t so sure. The timing for the High Gloss blow-up could not have been worse. “But there could be a delay.” She followed Penelope’s lead with salad and vegetables.
“What happened?”
“I had a major transaction for a client with High Gloss Cosmetics. They were looking for a spokesperson and partner for a new line. Yesterday morning, we had a deal, but by the afternoon, the spokesperson went crazy. This morning she jumped on a plane back to London.” Scarlett felt like strangling Lucan and Fleur.
“Sounds like extraordinarily bad luck.”
“Or something.” Was there more to the story?
Penelope chewed thoughtfully. “You’ve done other deals with High Gloss, haven’t you?”
“A couple of others. The CEO, Olga, is really good to work with. And that deal was worth a fortune.”
“I know you can’t tell me what happened,” Penelope began, when they were interrupted by Fianna and Dahlia. The conversation shifted to the filming. Scarlett glanced at her watch. She had to make the dreaded phone call to Katherine.
She stepped away, taking care not to trip over wires, and called Katherine’s phone. There was no answer, and Scarlett didn’t want to leave a message. She’d try again later.
Scarlett was making her way back to the group when she spied a copy of Hollywood Today sitting in a chair next to the hair stylist and makeup artist. A photo on the front of the tabloid paper caught her eye. She stopped and peered at it.
“You can take it if you want. I’m through with it,” the makeup artist said.
“Maude Magillicutty’s new boy toy is pretty hot,” the hair stylist added. Both women laughed. “Wonder who he is?”
“I don’t know, but with a body like that, bet it won’t be a secret for long.”
Scarlett picked up the paper. Sure enough, there was a series of photos of the actress in the arms of a handsome young Latin man. The photos were a little grainy, but there was no mistaking her companion. Especially in the shot of him grinning in his Mustang convertible.
“But a bow-tie? Seriously?” The women laughed again. “Maybe he wears it for Maude.”
“That’s all he needs to wear.”
Scarlett didn’t know whether to be angry with Johnny, or pity him. The absurdity of it was incredible. She began to chuckle with the stylists, and the stress of the past week unleashed her emotions. Soon she had a torrent of tears pouring down her facing, though she was still laughing.
The two women shot her a look. Scarlett caught hold of herself. It wasn’t that funny.
She snatched the paper and hurried away. She folded it with the photo inside, and stuffed it into her purse. On Saturday, she was supposed to meet Johnny at the Farmer’s Market.
Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse.
The director was calling for people to return to the set. Scarlett took her seat.
“Hey Scarlett, I’ve been trying to reach you,” Fianna said. “Want to come by the shop this weekend? I can keep the shop open for you like we talked about. Chinese food, too?”
“I’d really like that, Fianna, but work is tough right now. Maybe after next week.”
“Okay.” Fianna paused. “Verena looked at my licensing plan. Do you have time to read it? I could really use your help. I want to be your next big client.”
Scarlett smiled. “Someday you will be. After next week, I promise.” Although she doubted she could help Fianna now. The firm was demanding so much of her time, and Fianna’s account wouldn’t be large enough for them. “Maybe I can refer you to someone else.”
Fianna frowned, looking hurt. “I understand. I’m not important enough for you.” She turned away to return to the set.
“No wait, Fianna, I didn’t mean it that way.” Scarlett followed her onto the set.
“Quiet on the set, please.” The director motioned to Scarlett to return to her seat.
“Yes, sir.” She slouched down in the chair, feeling awful. Her world was spiraling out of control.
But she’d worked hard to get where she was, and she wasn’t going to let people like Lucan and Fleur dictate her life. Or ruin her friendships. She’d make time for Fianna.
On the next break, Scarlett told Fianna she’d call her next week, but she could tell Fianna was still upset.
Scarlett told her friends good-bye and left the studio.
She drove for a while, thinking about how she could salvage the deal with High Gloss, but she couldn’t come up with any new ideas. She pointed her car in the direction of Malibu, savoring the r
are time she had to herself.
When she arrived in the colony, she parked and kicked off her shoes when she got to the beach. This was one of her favorite stretches of sand. It was quieter than the beaches of Venice and Santa Monica. She strolled along, watching the waves crest and break, relentless in their motion.
Her life was like that. Unending motion. It was so easy to wake up and go through the same tasks, day in and day out. All around her, her friends were dating, getting married, and producing children.
She watched couples strolling on the beach, hand in hand. Some had toddlers with them. What her mother wouldn’t give for a grandchild.
Even if she never had children, there had to be more to life. Her friends were building businesses, taking vacations, and having fun. Why wasn’t she doing this, too?
She knew the answer. She had been so focused on making partner she’d put her life on hold until then. Now, the partnership decision was close. But could she start living a different life once that goal was achieved?
If it were achieved. She flinched as she thought of Fleur and Lucan.
Or would she continue to be a legal slave to the practice? She toiled far more hours than anyone else at the firm. Would that change? Or would she have to continue to work harder than anyone else to maintain her position?
Scarlett sighed as she watched shorebirds flitting around the sand, racing back and forth while the water lapped their pencil-thin ankles. She had started life from such a disadvantage that she’d always felt she had to work harder than anyone else. She’d had no family ties, no trust fund earmarked for college tuition, no country club connections. She’d kept a grueling academic schedule, earned excellent grades and had gone to school on a scholarship and loans.
But was it worth it now? Like the sand beneath her feet, she felt her world shifting.
She stopped and stared out to sea. It was time to call Katherine and give her an update. Dreading Monday, she wondered what awaited her next week at the office.
5
“HOLA, ¿QUÉ TAL?” An older man at a taco stand called out to Scarlett.
“Pedro, ¿cómo estás?” Scarlett stopped and spoke for a few minutes. Pedro had been a friend of her father and a fellow food vendor.
Scarlett had grown up going to the Farmer’s Market on Fairfax Boulevard. She loved the historic market, although it had grown and changed into a much more metropolitan shopping area under new ownership.
The newer section next to it, called The Grove, had a movie theater, upscale shops, and fine restaurants. A train for children wound through the open air shopping addition, which often featured special effects like man-made snow in the winter. She shook her head thinking about it. Only in Hollywood do they manufacture snow amid sunny skies and palm trees. Still, some of the original vendors remained in the old section, and she loved putting on her jeans and visiting old family friends, though it had been a long time.
Scarlett looked at her watch. Johnny should be here. Maybe something happened to him, she thought, before remembering that in Los Angeles, the concept of mañana—meaning tomorrow, or a casual approach to time—was entirely acceptable. Life was different in New York, and she’d grown accustomed to its big city pace.
Yet after Scarlett returned to Los Angeles, she realized how much she missed it. Missed the warmth of the sun on her shoulders, the sight of palm trees silhouetted against a Pacific Ocean sunset, the flavors of the spicy Mexican food she’d known since childhood.
Her first few paychecks as a new attorney had gone to help her mother move from the barrio after her father passed away and her brother had gone to Afghanistan to serve in the U.S. Army. Every month, Scarlett sent checks to cover her condominium near Fairfax, where she could walk to the Farmer’s Market, visit with old friends, and feel at home.
“Latte, por favor, grande,” she said, ordering a cup of coffee from another vendor’s stall.
Of all Scarlett’s friends, only Johnny really understood where she had come from. The others knew, of course, and respected her for her intelligence and determination, but only Johnny understood what it had taken for her to leave the barrio, and move into a new circle of friends and business colleagues and earn their admiration. Not that I need it, she reminded herself, but still, she was proud of her accomplishments.
“Gracias,” she said to the server, taking the steaming cup. She was sitting down at a communal table when she heard Johnny call her.
“Chica, darling, sorry I’m late,” he said, giving her a warm hug. “The parking was terrible.”
Scarlett kissed him on the cheek. He was like a brother to her, always had been. “Where’s your famous bow-tie?”
He grinned and shrugged. “I don’t have one to go with this T-shirt. You’re staying at your mom’s place?”
“Not anymore. I’ve leased one of the old townhouses south of Wilshire.”
“That’s a convenient area.” He hesitated, and his voice dropped a notch. “It’s awfully nice to have you back in town.”
Johnny sounded genuine, and Scarlett thought she heard something more in his voice, but she told herself she was mistaken. He probably spoke to all the women that way. She thought of Maude and the photo she’d seen. Johnny was her buddy, nothing more. “Need coffee?”
He shook his head, ran his hands through his thick, jet-black hair. “No, I’ve been up for hours already.”
Scarlett grinned. “Did hell freeze over?”
“Hey school girl, you’re not the only one with dreams, you know. I’m working on a business plan.”
“Oh, really?” Scarlett looked at him with interest. “For what? A franchise for the Playboy mansion?”
Johnny winked at her. “So I like women. That’s not a crime, lawyer lady.”
“Not until one of their husbands shoots you.”
Johnny shook a finger at her. “I don’t date married women. Nothing but trouble there.”
“Right. That’s not what I heard.”
Johnny heaved a sigh. “Gossip, that’s all it is, blondie.”
“No, mi amor, gossip happens in a coffee shop or a locker room. You were splashed on the cover of Hollywood Today.” Thinking about it, she tried to suppress a laugh, but couldn’t. “The Latino boy toy of fading star Maude Magillicutty, silver screen siren of yesteryear. Wasn’t that the gist of it?”
“Stop it, Scarlett, you know better than that. We had a business meeting. She sprained her ankle and I brought dinner to her.”
“That’s some service.” She couldn’t stop laughing.
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Of all people, I thought you’d understand.”
“Actually, I do understand. The story said you were seen leaving her house at two in the morning, so I’m sure you delivered a great performance.” She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “Maude Magillicutty, of all women, the blond bombshell, circa what, 1960?”
Scarlett noticed that people around them were taking in interest in their conversation, but she couldn’t help herself.
Johnny took her arm and steered her through the crowd. “Wait, my latte,” she said, hardly able to catch her breath.
“Let’s get out of here. I’ll get you another one.” He pushed his way past a couple of women with phones and a man with a camera. “What’s the matter with you,” he hissed in her ear. “You don’t go blasting stories like that around in L.A. Every wannabe screenwriter and publicist is here on a Saturday morning. It’s chock full of people dying to sell juicy stories to the tabloids. Believe me, they know how to embellish it. If there’s a big star within a mile of here, the paparazzi are out in force.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, still laughing. “Just the thought of you and Maude—”
Johnny pulled her in back of a piñata stall. His rich olive skin was reddening and the veins in his neck were bulging purple. “Maude’s a beautiful, smart woman who has made more money investing than you’ll ever see in a lifetime at your posh legal eagle club,” he said, clipping his words. “And for yo
ur information, miss know-it-all, I left at two in the morning because Maude and I were on a conference call with her husband in Shanghai. But that’s something I can’t talk about.”
“Oh no, three-way phone sex? This keeps getting better and better.”
Johnny started to punch a piñata before he caught himself and slammed his fist into his other hand. “Damn it, what’s the matter with you? I thought you were my friend.”
Scarlett blinked and stopped laughing. “I didn’t mean… Oh, no, I honestly thought it was true.”
An incredulous look crossed Johnny’s face. “You, of all people? What’s happened to you in that big fancy law firm?” He turned away from her. “I can’t even look at you.”
Scarlett grew quiet. “Then, it’s not true?”
“You’re smart enough to know you can’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, chica. Why didn’t you just ask me?”
Scarlett passed a hand over her face, feeling embarrassed. I shouldn’t have assumed. At that moment, she spied a long lens camera poking through colorful piñata streamers. She grabbed Johnny’s hand. “You’ve been discovered, let’s get out of here.”
“Aw, hell.” They darted out the side entrance past shoppers and began running through the parking lot. “Come on, my car, last row.”
Johnny was fit, and Scarlett could barely keep up with him. Her heart was pounding by the time they reached his classic Mustang convertible. He jumped in, unlocked her door, and was wheeling out of the parking space as she was closing her door. In her review mirror, she saw a skinny young guy with a camera standing in the middle of the parking row, snapping away at Johnny’s red car.
Johnny adjusted his mirror. “At least he’s on foot.” He banged the steering wheel. “I had shopping to do back there, too. Damned paparazzi.”
“I didn’t know,” Scarlett said.
“No, you didn’t, because you didn’t ask.” He turned onto Fairfax. “Where do you want to go?”
She shrugged. “Just drop me at my mother’s complex.”
Johnny looked across at her and sighed. “I’m under an NDA with Maude and Mitchell. You do know what an NDA is?”
